


Road's End

by InSearchOfSpace



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Drama, Gen, More Characters/Tags As It Progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-25 10:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13832214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InSearchOfSpace/pseuds/InSearchOfSpace
Summary: "The man in the checkered suit looked back at her, taking a further two steps forwards before taking a knee right in front of her, reaching out to pull her up from her side and onto her knees by her collar. She wordlessly looked up at him, a combination of fear and rage culminating in a facial expression that was strangely almost completely vacant. The stench of his cologne assaulted her nostrils, overpowering her senses enough that the taste had gotten stuck, lingering in the back of her throat from simply being near him. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a poker chip to show to her. The platinum poker chip she was supposed to deliver. "You've made your last delivery, kid." He said softly, but venomously, in a hushed tone that sounded almost sympathetic in the most mocking way possible. That was the exact moment she knew it was all over."A re-telling of the Courier's journey, from their arrival in the Mojave to their passing into legend following the second battle of Hoover Dam, and everything in-between. Feedback appreciated, as always!





	Road's End

"Caravan, citizen, pilgrim, or..?"

The graphite tip of a sharpened yellow pencil tapped against the lined paper of a sizeable notebook sitting flat on the wooden counter, opened up for anybody to see, though there wasn't really much there other than a few names neatly scrawled between each line, with the occasional footnote written in beside it. The eyes of the unenthusiastic bureaucrat that the voice belonged to slowly trailed up from the page and affixed themselves to the person standing opposite. A young woman of Chinese heritage, with loose familial connections to the Shi operating out of San Francisco. Short jet black hair stopped just a few inches above her shoulders, her eyes a dark shade of brown, with the slightest, barely noticeable tinge of amber.

"...Migrant." She replied after a moment's consideration, the man's pencil almost instantly scritching against the paper as soon as she spoke, as though he'd been aching to write something down for a change for quite some time. Her hands touched to the counter, peering down at the book as her fingertips rested on the unvarnished wood.

"Uh-huh. Name? Where are you passing through from?" He asked, not looking up from the book, holding his hand poised ready to write down once again.

"Huan Cheng. I've walked along the I-15 from the Boneyard looking for work." She said, watching him take his notes. A slightly irritated look adorned her face, like his questioning had irked her just a tad, though she understood he was just doing his job and her irritation was simply the exhaustion talking. This was fairly standard operation for the NCR, after all. "Sorry, is this important?" She asked, the index finger of her gloved right hand pointing at the pages.

"Just need something for the logbook," He said, closing the book up with a thud, pushing it to one side as he pocketed his pencil. "Keeping tabs on traffic through the outpost." He said, to which Cheng responded with a nod. She took her hands away from the counter, reaching up to adjust the strap from which her rifle hung across her back, the movement causing all of the gear sitting inside of her backpack to rattle softly. "Name's Major Knight. Something I can do for you?" The man spoke up again, leaning forward on the surface in front of him.

 "There was an officer at the Long 15." She replied. "He said you'd be able to find me some work, if it's not too much to ask." Cheng said, clenching the cuff of her fatigues between her thumb and her fingers as she reached up to run her sleeve along her forehead. The air-conditioned building was making her feel rather cold due to all the sweat she'd worked up by simply being outside in the sweltering heat. Which was odd, because since arriving in the Mojave, cold was something she thought she'd never feel again. Not in the daytime at least.

"Not _find_ so much as point you in the right direction of," Knight replied, almost cracking half a smile as he set his pencil down. "What are you looking for? Mercenary type?" Knight asked, quirking his brow. 

"I don't think I'm in a position to be choosy about what jobs I take right now." She sighed, placing her left hand on her hip as she looked up at him. Knight just nodded, pointing to his right. 

"Down the hill, right past the ranger monument, you can either head eastbound towards Nipton at the fork or keep straight ahead towards Primm." Knight spoke up as he returned his hands to his sides. "I haven't been up to Nipton myself so I can't tell you exactly what to expect work-wise, but it's a favourite of some of the boys stationed here for reasons you might expect." He said, pinching his beret with both hands to adjust it, coughing to clear his throat somewhat. "But Primm's got at least one business I know of besides the casinos - Mojave Express. If you can bare the slog of long distance deliveries then it pays well enough, but it sounds like that might be right up your alley." Knight replied, pulling the corner of his mouth up into a half-smile, looking on at the drifter with his hands together on the counter.

"Mojave Express." Cheng mused, before she nodded to Knight. "I'll take a look. Thanks for the help, Major." She said, pulling at the stock of her rifle to bring it out into her hands as she looked up at him one last time. She gave a lazy salute by putting her middle and index fingers to her forehead, heading out of the building. "Stay safe - stick to the roads." Knight called out, before returning to a slouched position over the desk, sliding his book back in front of himself.

\--

Outdoors, the sky was a pale blue, fading into pink closer to the horizon. Cheng didn't have any device on which to tell the time with, but she guessed it must have been about 6 or 7 in the morning. NCR outposts never slept though, no matter how early in the morning. Guards still patrolled its perimeter, off-duty troops still drank and laughed, playing cards as they would at any other point in the day. The drone of a chugging engine that sounded like it belonged to a heavy-duty vehicle could be heard in the background, along with a few drunken troopers somewhere in the base chanting about the Legion with glasses in hand like sailors - Singing something about giving 'the Monster of the East' the boot. The fence leading to the Long-15 rattled as it was pulled open by two troopers, and the chanting was drowned out by the sound of an engine revving up before quieting back down again for a moment.

Cheng watched as a large olive drab military truck rolled through the outpost, grit audibly crunching under its massive off-road tires. A small squad of troopers sat on the bed with guns in hand around a few large munitions crates that had been tied down to prevent them from rolling off the back. She stood observing the vehicle the entire way until it disappeared past the statues, heading down the hill. The NCR were certainly very well equipped. With how much ground the republic covered across the country, it wasn't really a surprise that they had the resources to get things like that up and running again.

Returning her focus to the business at hand, she looked down at the weapon in her hands, sold to her as a 'Battle Rifle' by a Gun Runner she'd encountered on the long walk from the Boneyard to the Mojave. It had seen her through more than a few scuffles with creatures on the road and raiders that sought to ambush her, but with only a couple boxes of ammunition left, stocking up was slowly becoming less of a decision to come to and more of a necessity. Looking between the way out of the outpost and the building beside the one she'd just come out of, she sighed, slinging the weapon across her back once again as she walked to the door. She pushed open the weathered metal door with her palm flat against it, glancing around at the bar in front of her.

It was cleaner than most she'd come across, but Cheng chalked that up to the bar's presence in an NCR outpost. The merchant who seemed to be working the bar looked to be a few caps deep into a game of caravan with a drifter, her face obscured by the bill of a beige baseball cap. Another woman in a brown leather jacket and a pink plaid shirt sat at the counter furthest to Cheng's left, looking to be clutching a quarter-empty bottle of whiskey. She seemed to have foregone the shot glass placed in front of her in favour of drinking straight out of the bottle. She wore a look of dread, like she had a huge burden on her mind that no amount of liquor could alleviate. A radio on the counter was playing one of Vegas' radio stations, with the host seeming to be in the middle of a news report. The bar was quiet, and had a nice atmosphere. If most bars were more like this, Cheng might have gone to them a lot more often than she did, which was never.

Spotting that a new face had entered the bar, the woman behind the counter glanced up from her card game, a puff of smoke billowing up from under her cap. "Shit. One second, sweetie." She muttered, clenching a long cigar between her teeth as she stepped away from the game to serve the newcomer. She stepped to one side, pushing the cap up with her hand as she took the cigar out of her mouth, leaning forward to look down at the smaller woman in front. "New face in the outpost?" She asked herself, bringing the cigar back up to her mouth. "Must have come from the North?" She said, shooting Cheng an odd look, almost one of distrust, or at the very least suspicion. The cowgirl at the side of the bar looked up, putting the rattan hat back on her head. "South." Cheng corrected, fishing around in one of her pockets, procuring a small pouch of caps. 

"Buy a girl a drink?" The cowgirl piped up, the bottle of whiskey now empty. Her tone sounded sincere, but her expression looked almost mocking. Not that she looked like she was about to pass up a free drink even, she was just jeering at a newcomer. "You look like you've had enough." She replied, looking in the girl's direction without looking directly at her after a brief pause, her words coming out almost hesitant. Cheng felt that a barfight wasn't the most appealing way start her life in the Mojave, nor the most elegant.

"That right? Well what the fuck's that supposed to mean?" The cowgirl shot back, her words slurring. Her lips had curled into a smirk like she found it funny, but there was definitely malice behind her voice. It was unmistakable. Cheng had no idea how to diffuse the situation, glancing between the bartender and the girl. As though recognizing Cheng's unwillingness to let the situation escalate into a fight, the bartender stepped in, her fists balled up against the counter.

"Calm down, Cassidy, before I cut you off." She said glancing towards 'Cassidy' with an eyeroll.

"Blow it out your ass, Lacey." Cass said with her eyes narrowed, looking back down at her bottle while chewing the inside of her cheeks. Her desire to keep drinking seemed to far outweigh her desire to appear tough-as-nails to some walk-in from out in the Wastes that she was likely never going to see again anyhow. Besides, she didn't have to prove anything to anybody. "Pay your fucking tab, Cass." Lacey retorted, waving Cass away dismissively. "Sorry about that. What were you saying? Can I fix you something up?" Lacey smiled. It was a stark contrast to the judging look she was giving her just a few moments prior. Lacey was sizing up Cheng the moment she took notice of her, due to a preference to not to business with strangers. In the brief time she'd been in the bar, she already had Cheng pegged as someone who kept themselves on the straight and narrow. Or at the very least just wasn't looking for trouble.

"I just need to pick up some bullets, if you have any. As many as these will get me." Cheng said, opening up the small bag of bottlecaps and pouring them out on the counter with a light metal rattle. There looked to be about 50 or so in the pile. "308." She specified as Lacey began counting them out with her index finger at a surprisingly fast pace. Once the caps had all been collected, Lacey reached down under the counter and pulled up a small box of .308 rounds, placing them in front of Huan. She opened it up to peek inside, counting about 10 bullets. It was better than nothing. Bringing her backpack around to her front, Cheng unzipped a front compartment, hastily stuffing the box inside before zipping it back up, placing both straps back on her shoulders so that it sat (semi) comfortably against her back once more. "Thank you." She said quietly with a nod, turning to leave the bar. No 'farewell' or 'stay safe' was uttered by Lacey. Instead, she just focused on returning to her game of caravan. 

 Now, the wheels truly were in motion. Taking hold of the straps of her backpack and her rifle's sling, Cheng began to make her way towards the ranger monument, tilting her head back to gaze up at it as she passed under. She felt it to be somewhat cocky of the NCR to erect two giant statues in a region that she was fairly sure was still technically not theirs, but Cheng knew too little about politics in the Mojave to comment. Her attention, however, was quickly stolen from the mesh rangers as she drew closer to the downwards slope out of the outpost. She had quite the view of the Wasteland as she made her descent. Despite how dangerous it was out there, it looked so serene with the sun slowly rising over it. It was deceptive, like a thorn-covered rose. The bustling of the busy outpost grew fainter and fainter with each step that she took, and before long Cheng had disappeared down the hill, beginning the hike up to Primm.

\--

It only took about one more hour of solid walking before she arrived at a small town a little further down the way. Her clothes were drenched in sweat, the sun having beaten down on her relentlessly - Something she'd have no choice but to get used to. Her first instinct was to ask for directions to try and figure out where she was. The sooner she got to Primm, the better. She approached a man who had stopped beside a large sign on the sidewalk to light a cigarette, holding her hand out as she called out to get his attention. "Excuse me!" She said, rushing over as he turned his head to glare at her, raising an eyebrow with the cigarette between his lips. "Would you mind telling me where this is?" She asked, catching her breath. "I'm trying to get to Primm." She added, reaching up to run her hand down her face, glistening with sweat. 

"You're standing in it, kid." He replied with a roll of his eyes before striking a match to light his cigarette with, pocketing the matchbox as he walked off to the large building that the sign seemed to be advertising. Cheng looked up to see what it said.

'Bison Steve'. 

"...Already?" She asked herself, looking down at the ground. She was amazed that the walk had gone by so fast. Not that she was complaining. She shook her head to regain her focus on the matter at hand, looking up around town at some of the buildings. The first one that she noticed simply read 'Vikki & Vance'. No, that wasn't it. She turned her head, looking to the left, almost immediately spotting a smaller establishment that lacked the fancy embellishments of the other buildings, baring only a sign that read 'MOJAVE' across the top of it. That must have been the Mojave Express. Cheng wasted no time in making her way over, letting out a sigh of relief. Her hand wrapped around the brass doorknob, slowly turning it and pushing the wooden door open slowly with a creak. The interior was dimly lit, and the only person in sight was a much older man behind a counter, in the process of tinkering with a strange looking robot, though he stopped what he was doing upon hearing someone come in, placing his screwdriver down on the counter in front of him with a clatter. The overhead light cast a shadow on his face that made it difficult to make out his features, until he leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the stranger. 

"You here to pick somethin' up?" He asked, tilting his head to the side as he shot her a curious look, putting his hand up to rub his chin in thought, bristly hairs audibly scratching against his palm. "No sir," Cheng replied, stepping forward. "I'm looking for work. I thought maybe you might be in need of another courier?" She finished, bringing her hand up to her arm, rubbing at her elbow anxiously. She'd really hate for this trip to have all been for nothing. The man behind the counter's face remained as stoic as ever. "We're _always_ in need of new couriers if'n you think you can handle it. It's not easy work though, kid. Seen men made'a sterner stuff than you look to be bite the big one before the first delivery's through." 

What little enthusiasm Cheng was showing on her face was slowly draining as the man spoke, and he didn't even seem to be finished talking yet. 

"And the walkin' never gets any easier. If you're going to take on a job here, little lady, then I need to know you won't just up and die on us. It's no good for business." He finished, crossing his arms as he sceptically looked her up and down. Cheng's optimism had gone, and in its place was a raw determination to prove him wrong that only grew stronger the more he implied that she wasn't cut out for this line of work. She was confident it would just be like any other job she'd taken. She did odd jobs _all the time_ back in the Boneyard, so why should this be any different?

"I don't plan on dying any time soon." She replied defiantly, placing a hand on her hip with her eyes narrowed, to which the man gave a quiet laugh in response, slowly walking out from behind the counter. "Well, at least ya' got guts, youngster." He said, stopping in front of her. His entire demeanor had undergone a complete change within about 5 seconds. He came off a lot more cold and critical before. Now he was smiling, and made her feel much more welcomed, almost like he was just testing her. "I'm Nash. Johnson Nash." He said, a rough, calloused hand firmly taking her own, shaking it before she'd even had a chance to process that a handshake was what he was going in for in the first place. "How soon can you start work?" He asked as he dropped her hand. Cheng looking confused, but pleased with the development.

"I'm Cheng, and I was hoping to get to work as soon as possible." She replied rather bluntly, looking up at him. Nash seemed to give it some thought, but Cheng was pretty visibly exhausted from the journey over here. She felt about as tired as she looked - Not from walk from the Mojave Outpost to Primm either, but from everything that came before that. It had been non-stop travelling for days. "Come back tomorrow and I'll have a package waitin'." He said, slowly bringing himself back behind the counter as he looked at her. "You look like you're gonna drop at about any moment, so I reckon a little beauty sleep would do you some good. You can rent out a room at the Bison Steve just over yonder if you need a roof, but I don't care where you sleep so long as you do it. If you don't, you'll only curse yourself for stayin' up late when you find out you gotta do an entire day's worth of solid hiking to get your package home safe." Nash said, picking up his screwdriver again so he could resume tinkering with the strange looking robot. "No go on, git." He said, waving her off with half a smile on his face.

Cheng nodded, walking backwards towards the door. "Right. I'll be back tomorrow for that package. Thanks, again." She said with a wave before heading back outside, closing the door behind herself.

\--

Courier work seemed to suit Cheng just fine. She'd only been working for the Mojave Express for little over a week and and only made about four deliveries, but she had already taken a liking to it. At times when the roads were quiet, the walking became almost therapeutic and tranquil, especially on the higher-paying longer distance jobs. She wouldn't lie to herself though - Some days it was hard, and the occasional dust-up out in the desert meant she had to always be on her toes, but Courier work was something she could see herself doing for a while to come. 

How was she to know things were about to take a grave turn?

The Mojave Express' old wooden door creaked open as Cheng let herself in, and Nash seemed to have been waiting for her the way he was stood leaning against the counter. A pile of envelopes he'd been sorting through laid ignored, and he was holding a tightly-wrapped package in his hand.

"Good Morning, Mr. Nash." She said, as she shut the door behind herself, noticing the envelopes. "Are those for me?" She asked, pointing to them with a hand on her rifle's sling. Nash glanced over at them, before slowly turning his head back to her, shaking his head. "They were, kid, but somethin' came up." He said, extending his arm out to hand her the package. There was definitely something in there, but the way it was wrapped and taped up multiple times so scruffily meant its contents wouldn't rattle around.  "Something wrong?" She asked while inspecting the package.

"The sad sack who was supposed to be delivering this must'a gotten cold feet or something." He said, his expression deadpan. He almost looked concerned. "I need someone to get this thing delivered pronto." He said, handing her the delivery order. She looked over it, an expression of confusion washing over her face. 

"One oversized poker chip, composed of platinum." She read aloud, quirking her brow in confusion. 

"I wouldn't spend too long tryin' to wrap your head around it. This job's seven flavors of strange, kid. I just want it over and done with. I reckon you can get it delivered by tomorrow if you head out now. Probably best if you start makin' tracks anyhow, if you don't want to be the last one to make the delivery." He said, immediately piquing Cheng's interest. Her confusion was only fuelled further.

"The last one?" She asked, folding up the delivery order to put it in her breast pocket. She reached back to pull her bag to the front, putting the package inside. Her backpack had been swapped out for a slightly smaller satchel bag. It had less space to store things, but it was far more convenient for her job. "Yeah, the last one." Nash looked down at her with his arms folded, reaching up to scratch his chin. "Six orders were placed, all going to the same place, and all carrying junk by the looks of it. Thought it must'a been a joke at first, and I'm still not so sure it ain't, but as long as we're getting paid, it ain't ours to know." He offered little more than a shrug of his shoulders. He didn't seem to be very animated today. He was much too tense over this job, and understandably so. It was certainly a weird one.

"The other guy dropped out, and you're next on the list. So that makes you courier number six." He said as Cheng took her rifle into her hands, loading it. Once the package was safely in her satchel, and her rifle was fully loaded, she was ready to move. "I'm heading out then, I've got an oversized poker chip to deliver." She said with a roll of her eyes. True, it wasn't her business what anybody wanted delivered, but a trip up to New Vegas for one lousy novelty poker chip would have been laughable, had it not been such a pain in the ass. At least it'd give her time to think.

"One more thing," Nash spoke up to grab her attention as she was leaving, pointing his finger in the air. Cheng turned back around to look at him, half-way out the door. "There's a little town called Goodsprings you're gonna need to take a detour through. Real quiet place, and if you keep watching the signs you can't miss it. It'll be a good place to stock up on the way, or fill your canteen up with water, I don't really care what it is you do there. Just make sure you do take that detour. I keep hearin' about some nonsense going on up near Sloan over the radio so you're gonna wanna give that place a wide berth." He said, turning around to resume sorting through the envelopes. "Anyway. That's all, so good luck, kid." He said, giving a weak-wristed wave over his shoulder, since he now had his back to her. She nodded, holding her rifle with one hand. "Thanks." She called back, rushing out the door with a light jog, making her way out of Primm.

\--

Dirt that had accumulated from months of travel coated Cheng's weathered black boots, making them almost appear tan around the bottom. Since starting at the Mojave Express, she'd become much better at managing the intense heat of the Mojave. Walking a long-distance was one thing, but walking a long distance with that harsh sun above you was another thing altogether. Thankfully, it was only getting easier with each delivery.

She stopped in her tracks, pulling a folded up piece of paper from her back pocket, unfolding it back to its large size. It was a map of the area, though roughly 200 years out of date as it didn't account for any post-war locations. Goodsprings seemed to be there though, and going off of both her judgement and all the signs she'd passed, she seemed to be about a 5 minutes away.

The sooner she got into town the better - She'd had this uneasy feeling looming over her a few minutes after leaving Primm that she just couldn't shake. True, it could definitely have been chalked up to the dread she was feeling over having to make a seemingly pointless delivery to New Vegas, but she was almost certain that wasn't it. Maybe it was just the winding road up to Goodsprings? There were a lot of rocks around - Plenty of places for an ambush. 

She folded the map back up, holding her rifle with both hands as she started walking again. Just a little further up the road, she could see a well just out of the corner of her eye. Thank God. Her throat was dry, and now that she knew there was clean water just a few feet to the left, the thirst had become unbearable. Thinking this a good time to fill up her canteen, Cheng veered from the road, holding her rifle by the barrel as she unclipped the flask from her belt, her footsteps crunching loudly as she walked towards the water source. She dropped to her knees beside it with her hand resting on the concrete, immediately leaning in to scoop up some water, bringing it up to her mouth to suck it in. She let out a sigh of relief after the first sip, unscrewing the cap from her flask to fill it up. The water glugged, bubbling as she turned her flask over under the water, bringing it back up completely full. She put the lid back on, smiling to herself as she clipped it back on her belt, turning back to return to the road. She walked about three steps away from the well when she felt two hands force a small burlap bag over her head, dragging her backwards to pull her off of her feet. She dropped the rifle in panic, her hands clawing helplessly at the canvas material as her heels dragged in the dirt. All she could see was the sun filtering through the coarse beige material of the bag over her head, and all she could hear was her muffled screaming, until something blunt and heavy collided with her temple, knocking her out cold.

\--

She awoke hours later with a throbbing headache, laying face down in the dirt, shivering from the cold night air. After opening her eyes, she could see three people who appeared to be in the middle of an argument, or at least a heated discussion. Behind them, the glowing beacon of light that was New Vegas sitting pretty in front of the night sky. Upon attempting to put her hands out to pick herself up, she noticed they were bound together with rope, prompting her to try and move her hands apart to break free of her constraints, despite the futility. That rope definitely wasn't coming off.

"Guess who's waking up over here!" A voice called out, belonging to a man brandishing a shovel in both hands. Looking back up at her captors, she could see three men. One looked extremely out of place with how well kept he seemed, though Cheng didn't really have the time to ponder why someone so well-dressed was in the company of what looked like two radiers. The man in the checkered suit took one final drag from his cigarette, before dropping it onto the dirt, stomping it out with a well polished shoe. "Time to cash out." He said as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, beginning to make his way over to her. His approach was impeded by the thug with the handlebar moustache barking out at him. "Would you get it over with?" He said sternly, arms out in frustration. The man in the checkered suit's eyes met the ground, holding his index finger up in the air. 

"Maybe _Khans_ kill people without looking 'em in the face. But I ain't a fink." He said, turning his head to look back at him. "Dig?"

The man in the checkered suit looked back at her, taking a further two steps forwards before taking a knee right in front of her, reaching out to pull her up from her side and onto her knees by her collar. She wordlessly looked up at him, a combination of fear and rage culminating in a facial expression that was strangely almost completely vacant. The stench of his cologne assaulted her nostrils, overpowering her senses enough that the taste had gotten stuck, lingering in the back of her throat from simply being near him. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a poker chip to show to her. The platinum poker chip she was supposed to deliver. "You've made your last delivery, kid." He said softly, but venomously, in a hushed tone that sounded almost sympathetic in the most mocking way possible. That was the exact moment she knew it was all over.

He stood back up, looking down at her for a moment. "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene." He said as he reached back into his jacket, pulling a face like he was trying to stop himself from smirking. This time though, he pulled a gun from his jacket - An engraved silver handgun that was reflecting the yellow light of the lantern by their feet. Her eyes widened in shock. She wanted to say something. She wanted to scream and call out for help but she just couldn't find the words. Her eyes were just transfixed to the gun in his hand. The one that was almost certainly going to be her undoing. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, like it was hammering on her rib cage trying to get out. Everything else about her was static. She couldn't even bring herself to breathe as she stared at the gun, mouth hanging open. 

"From where you're kneeling it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck. Truth is..." He said, taking a step back, finally caving in and allowing himself to smirk just a tad. Cheng didn't know why. Maybe he was a psychopath and took pleasure from killing. Maybe he was excited to live out some tough Vegas gangster fantasy. Either way, he was now pointing his gun at her from his hip, and everything felt like it was in slow motion. This was it.

 

"The game was rigged from the start." He said, pulling the trigger. The sound of the gun blast echoed through her head. There was a flash of white light.

 

Then there was nothing.


End file.
